The Hero Girl Named Fionna
by Lauraeffingiero
Summary: It's nasty, falling in love with a Vampire King - but Fionna went and did it anyways. A story following the hero as she grows up and falls in love with the hottest vampire dude around! Question is, will the red-eating, rocker king admit his feelings for the badass adventuress? Fiolee!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Adventure Time isn't mine!

**Notes:** Well, I've never written for Adventure Time before, but I've loved the show forever. Once Marshall and Fionna showed up, I knew that had to happen, even though I've never written anything for a fandom this huge. So, here it is! I don't know how many chapters it'll be, but we'll see what happens. Please please review!

* * *

His hand was cold in hers.

"I'm Marshall Lee," he said with a smug smile. "I remember you. The homeless one who now has a house due to my good graces. Filly? Fie?"

"Fionna the Human," she muttered, shaking and dropping his hand as quickly as possible.

"Ha. Human. As if I couldn't smell that a mile away," he smirked.

Fionna scowled, her fingers inching towards her sword. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, you treehouse-stealing tool face?"

It was not the best start to a friendship.

...

"You left your dumb socks behind my bed," Fionna said, a little more than a month later, standing at his door with one fist poised to knock and the other clutching some rather odorous footwear.

Marshall Lee frowned, leaning against the doorway. It was a bit of a sight, considering he was floating. That lumping boy was always floating. "When?"

"A hundred years ago or whatever! Whenever you last lived there. Take them!" To emphasize the statement she waved them around a little, and he coughed.

"How do you know they aren't yours?" he asked, retreating a few inches and gesturing for her to come in.

Perhaps she should have deliberated a little more before doing so, but deliberating was for dumb-butts, and Fionna was no dumb-butt. "Mine smell worse," she grumbled as she crossed the threshold.

Marshall laughed. It was a soft sound. "Fine, give 'em here."

She tossed them his way, and began absently picking at her fingertip as he unlaced his boots.

"What do you know," he said, slipping the crusty old socks on and wiggling his toes. "They fit." He paused, flipping upside down to admire the threadbare socks, his hair dangling. "I smell blood," he muttered all of a sudden, righting himself.

Fionna glanced up, and started to see Marshall instantly so close to her. His eyes were blacker than ink.

"You're hurt," he hissed, his fingers closing around her wrist.

"It's just a splinter," she said. "I got it from touching that stupid M you carved."

"You touched my M?" Marshall asked, raising his eyebrows.

Fionna blushed a tiny bit, then felt foolish for it and tried to jerk her hand back. "Well, it's my treehouse now, which makes it my M. I can touch it if I want!"

He laughed. "Whatever you say, Fi." Then he sighed, tilting her finger this way and that to examine the angry red spot pricked with a tiny piece of wood. "Poor baby human, this looks like it hurts."

"Look, screwy, I'm tough," Fionna snapped, trying to pull away again and failing. "You don't have to treat me like a kid!"

Marshall said nothing, seemingly ignoring her words, his dark eyebrows lowered as he examined the offending sliver of tree bark. "You think twelve is old?"

"I'm nearly thirteen–"

"Try being a thousand, Fionna," he said, yanking the splinter from her skin with two pinched fingernails. "There. All better."

"Math," Fionna said sharply, taking a breath and stepping away. "Thanks," she muttered after a moment.

He grinned. "Anytime."

"The blood doesn't bother you?" she wondered, examining the welling crimson drop on her fingertip.

He shrugged. "Not after a thousand years. Red is enough." He looked at his socks again, and then slowly floated down, like a particularly fluffy snowflake, only more punk. For the first time in decades, the Vampire King's feet touched the ground. He simply stood for a moment, and then with a squeal of glee he pushed off and went sliding across the polished floor on his socked feet.

She simply stared.

"Ah, Fionna, you've got to try this!" he called, whizzing past.

Not able to bear the thought of him having more fun than her, Fionna immediately stripped off her shoes and shoved off the wall. It felt like flying, soaring on the shiny, almost untouched wood, and after a second she threw her arms out and laughed.

"I used to do this all the time at the treehouse," Marshall said, flipping black hair from his eyes and elbowing the couch to keep up speed, "back when the floors were still new. Me and Ashlynn had the best time."

"Who's Ashlynn?" Fionna asked. Distracted, she didn't manage to stop in time, and crashed into a wall.

Marshall laughed, leaning down to help her up. "An old girlfriend. Scum-sucking psycho."

"What'd she do?"

"Mm. She sold something really important to me."

"Relationships are stupid," Fionna said, swinging around the corner and skimming down the hall. Marshall followed behind, and she could see from how his eyes gleamed he had no intention of letting her reach the end of the hallway first. "I'd rather be friends than date."

"Even with Gumball?" Marshall asked wickedly, slipping by and beating her to the end.

Fionna blushed, and Marshall smirked.

"I wish I could do that," he said.

"Do what?"

"Turn cute and pink like you can."

At that, Fionna's blush darkened, smearing across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. "Gumball's pink all the time," she muttered, spinning and heading back to the living room. Silently she thought that the Candy Prince was cute all the time, too.

Marshall sneered a little, his fangs showing as he cocked his head at her.

"Pink is a manly color!" she said hotly, skidding to a halt at his front door.

Marshall rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Fi."

"Hey, wanna come over for dinner?" she asked, slipping her disproportionately tiny feet into her shoes.

He slid to a stop and reached for his boots. "Got anything red?"

"Spaghetti with red sauce! Can't go wrong, bro."

He looked at her. "Cake'll flip."

She shrugged, and Marshall grinned.

"I always loved it when her tail got poofy anyways," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Dude, not mine.

**Notes: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, you're all mathematical and flippin' awesome! Here's the next chapter. They go chronologically, so Fionna's a little older in this one, and Marshall - well. That guy doesn't really age. I guess he's the same, then. There isn't really any fluffy/romantic goodness yet because Fionna's too li'l for that, but it'll come! Please review, and I'll make you an everything burrito!

* * *

"Thirteen, Fionna. Dude, that's _so old_! Makes me feel young. Well, almost."

"I know, look at this babygirl here! Ready to go out into the world and get herself a man!"

"Would you two _shut up_? I'm tryin' to think of a wish and with all the talking–"

"Minimal talking, really–"

"I mean, _look_ at her, have you ever seen such a gorgeous girl? And dangerous, too!"

"Cake, really?! Shut up! Can't you guys be quiet for two seconds?! Look, Prince Gumball and Lord M are bein' all reasonable and such, staying quiet and letting me make my wish!"

"Actually, Fionna, as I mentioned before, based on my experiments with falling stars and lunar calendars, I am not entirely sure birthday wishes can really come true–"

"PG, now is not the time for science!"

"Uh, yes, of course. Sorry."

"Fionna, girl, your candles will burn down! Why haven't you made a wish?!"

Fionna ignored the irony of that demand, stared at the thirteen candles adorning her cake, and concentrated. First she thought about wishing for a new sword, because, honestly, who couldn't use a new sword? But then she thought of how she had always wanted a waffle maker. In the end she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and wished for more adventures. Her candles went out all at once with a whoosh, and as she caught her breath everyone dug in.

She'd specifically requested the cake and frosting be red, and Marshall winked at her as he sucked the color from three different slices in under five seconds. She didn't mind eating the colorless cake, though it was true it didn't taste quite as good, but when she reached for it he stopped her.

"On your birthday? Please, Fionna – you deserve some color." He reached down into the mad rush that was guests swarming the table for sweets, (though as most of them were made out of sweets, perhaps it was a little redundant) and grabbed her a piece bigger than her head.

"For my little hero girl," he whispered in her ear, his breath ticklish.

"I'm not your–"

But he was no longer in front of her. Glancing over heads for him and ignoring her feet, Fionna tripped on a stray partygoer. She caught herself fine, reflexes as quick as ever, but as she turned, frowning, her small frame nearly smacked into Marshall's much taller, thinner one. His hands gripped her forearms lightly as she regained her balance.

"Marshall?" she asked, the plate of cake a little bit smushed between them and his fingers cool on her arms.

"Hmm?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I am _not_ little." And with that, she pulled the sticky red cake from its plate and smashed it against his face.

And he could only laugh, trying to wipe it off on his sleeve, because Fionna had told him months ago he needed some sugar in his life. "Not anymore," he responded, shaking chunks of icing and crumbs from his hair. Sticking his long grayish finger into the frosting left on the plate, he began to smear red all over her face, managing to smile and smirk at the same time.

She laughed, because it tickled and because she was glad he had come, even if he was the only person in Aaa unimpressed by her determination to spread good with whatever means necessary, especially if those means involved a sword. "What are you doing?"

"Making you a painting for your birthday, hold still," he said, his mouth quirking in amusement. On contact with his cold skin, the frosting was beginning to harden, and it felt strange as it crusted onto her cheeks and in her pale eyebrows.

"What's it of?" she asked, reaching up and brushing a stubby nail against the sugared red.

"Tsk tsk, it's not done!" He smacked her hand away, tilted his head, and swiped one final flourish at the corner of her eyelid. Then he grinned. "I'm not much of an artist, but it's us fighting that epic battle rematch we always said would happen. I'm in bat form and you've got that little sword thing – and obviously we know how this would play out in real life, but bear with me – you, near defeat, gather the last of your strength and – well, this part's unclear. You win somehow? But only because it's your birthday, don't go getting a gigantic head. And then we prank someone and have a good laugh. The end."

"You got all that with some icing?" Fionna asked dubiously, snatching a spoon from the dessert table to glance at her warped reflection. "Geez, Marshall, are you nuts? This is just a bunch of squiggly lines!"

"Nah," he said, eyebrows gathering slightly as he leaned in to look closer. "I'm pretty sure that one's a zigzag."

Fionna rolled her eyes, but she found herself smiling anyways, bits of sugar falling off and catching in her eyelashes. "Thanks for coming to my party, dude. You're a real bro."

"Aw, Fi, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said. "I haven't had this much free red cake since I crashed the last royal wedding."

She laughed, giving him a playful punch. "Jerk!"

He rubbed his arm, because even an innocent punch from Fionna had more in common with a lead pipe than not. "I'll take you next time, don't worry. Whenever Gumball gets married –" he paused at the way her face fell a little. "Or one of the other princes, you know, whoever – they always have to have every color of cake to represent kingdom unity or some junk."

"Yeah," she said. They were both silent for a second as Fionna glanced over at Gumball where he perched on a seat and nibbled at some dessert. After a moment she mustered up a smile. "Birthdays are rad."

Marshall shrugged, absently brushing cake from his clothes. "After the hundredth one they get a little old. Other people's are still fun, I guess."

"How many birthdays have you had anyways?" Fionna asked curiously. She knew he was over a thousand, which was already ridiculous, but she had never known how much over.

"It's a super high number, and let's leave it at that," the Vampire King said casually, pinching a bit of cake from a passing Cinnamon Bun and licking the color from it.

Fionna wondered why he never really talked about himself in anything other than vague, noncommittal terms. She knew more about who he really was from his songs than anything else.

Out of the corner of her eye, within the crowd that had moved from dessert to dancing, she saw Cake's extended arms wiggling in a charmingly spaghetti-like manner as she called to Fionna. "Party it up, birthday girl! Get over here!"

"Come on, kid," Marshall grinned, hooking her hand in his and floating both of them into the middle of the mass of dancing bodies. "Let's revel."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I wish, man.

**Notes: **Well, here's the third chapter! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who's reviewed, it really means the world to me. I hope you like the way this story's going - if you do, please review! And if you don't, tell me anyways - just use your nice words like a big kid!

As a random note, I heard there is an upcoming episode focused on Marshall Lee, and I am SO EXCITED. I can't believe I went and created an entire character out of a two second clip of him in one episode, (though I'm not the only one, obviously - woot for Fiolee fans!) so it'll be way math to see more of him. Aight, guys, enjoy!

* * *

A few feet away, Cake slept on the picnic blanket they had used for dinner earlier in the evening, but Fionna and Marshall were hanging upside down, their knees hooked over tree branches. It was a much more flattering position for Marshall than it was for Fionna – he looked exactly the same, except that, for once, his black hair flopped out of his face to reveal pointy-tipped ears. She, however, was more pink-faced than Gumball and a bit wheezy. But she was holding up better than he was, and he knew it. He usually never spent so long without hovering, and it surprised him, the amount of concentration it took to stop his legs from drifting a few inches up.

"Ha, you're doing it again!" Fionna said as he began to float once more.

Marshall groaned. "Glob, I can't believe you noticed that. What do you want to ask?"

Fionna grinned, which, in her position, did even less attractive things for her red face. "Hmm, let me think of one." For every time Marshall cheated, she got to ask him something she'd always wanted to know, and he had to answer; for every five minutes he went without hovering, he could ask her. "Okay, got it. What the flip is your mom? She's not a vampire, because she sucks souls instead of red or blood."

He laughed. "Any question in the world and that's what you want to know?"

Fionna nodded. It looked very strange upside down.

"She's a demon," he said, reaching for his axe bass, which was set at the base of the tree. The branch was a few inches too high for him to be able to get it, and he scowled as he stretched further.

"So, what's that make you – half vampire, half demon?" Fionna wondered.

Marshall's fingers closed around the guitar neck, and with a triumphant grin he pulled it towards him. "Nope. Before I was turned, I was half demon, half human." He flipped the bass so it was equally as wrong side up as he was and began to pluck at it absently. "Now I'm all vampire."

"Your dad was human?" Fionna felt a little flicker of excitement inside her. Sometimes she forgot Marshall had been alive longer than hundreds of generations of her people. "What was he like? What was Aaa like before the Mushroom War, when there were so many humans everywhere?"

"Too many questions," Marshall said dismissively, smirking at her. "It isn't your turn anymore."

Fionna frowned, disappointed. She so rarely received an opportunity to ask him questions, the single remaining sane survivor of a mostly forgotten war, the only person who had ever seen a world ruled by humans and could still remember it. "Nut muffins."

"I should get a question," Marshall said, "for being able to play bass while hanging from a tree." True to his words, he moved into the starting chords of one of his songs and began to hum.

Fionna laughed. "Okay, fine. Only one!"

Marshall continued to play, brow creasing thoughtfully. "What exactly do you like so much about Gumball?"

She instantly blushed, and it combined with her already reddened face to become so absurdly pink Marshall snickered. "You're so nosy!" she accused.

"Nah, I'm just curious," he said, his fingers dancing quietly over the guitar strings.

Fionna sighed. She was beginning to feel vaguely dizzy from all the blood rushing to her head. "I don't anymore, remember? Not after that ball where the Ice Queen pretended to be him. Relationships are stupid."

"But you were crazy about him before. I never got it. You're completely different people. I mean, look at the guy, he's a sciency nerd and junk, and you're radical and badass."

Fionna smiled at the compliment and shrugged, though the motion was a little difficult. "Look man, I dunno. He's nice."

"Pff," Marshall scoffed, picking out a few sharp notes. "Nice? You should be with someone who likes the same things as you and who knows how to have a good time, not just someone who's _nice_."

Fionna paused, his words turning themselves over in her mind as she stared at him.

"What?" he asked, a little defensively, his fingers pressing unnecessarily hard against the strings. He hated when she looked at him like that, as if only focusing hard enough would allow her to see inside his head.

"Nothing, dude," she said. Looking down at the ground and then back at him, she saw his knees slowly rise above the rough branch. "You cheater!"

"Aw, damn it," Marshall muttered. "I wasn't paying attention." He sighed gustily. "Fine, shoot."

Fionna wasn't sure of her question, so she chewed her lip thoughtfully in silence. "Can you suck the red from someone's skin?" she asked after a moment.

"Uh, yeah. It's called killing them."

Fionna glanced over to see him giving her a strange look. His eyes glinted in the dark, and she realized all of a sudden that it was far past dinnertime, and their picnic had been finished for hours.

"Cake's waking up," he murmured, jerking his head at the blanket. Fionna saw the napping cat stir, and she swung herself up from the branch. Scooting down the trunk, she straightened her skirt.

"Can I ask one more question?" she queried softly, as he drifted down.

He nodded, slinging the guitar strap over his back and smoothing his plaid shirt. Fionna couldn't help but notice how disorganized his hair was from being upside down, how it was even messier than usual.

She tugged on a bunny ear, a little nervous for his answer. "…What was the worst part about the war, Marshall?"

It came out nearly as a whisper, but she knew he could hear her even if she hardly breathed it.

He shook his head, and she shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to tell me."

"I will. But not now… I'll tell you later." His voice was resigned, and for the first time she'd ever heard, actually sounded like that of someone who had lived centuries. Something cold brushed through Fionna's stomach, and she thought it might have been fear. "I'll tell you about it some other time, 'kay?" he said, jerking a hand through his hair.

She nodded. "Right. Later." Maybe she could wait a little longer, if what he was going to say would be so awful.

He smiled at her, but it seemed more like a tired shift of his mouth than anything else, and didn't even show his fangs. "Goodnight, Fionna."

"Yeah, 'night," she said, looking to where Cake was sitting up, nearly completely awake. She heard a quiet rush of wind, and when she turned, searching the darkness surrounding her for the Vampire King, there was nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Darn it, no!

**Notes: **Hi guys! To be honest, it feels really weird to be posting so many chapters; normally it takes me months per chapter and they're at least eight or nine pages, but I like this story better as a series of oneshots. It'll turn into more of a chapter story soon, though, once we get to the romance!

Also, gigantic thank you's to everyone who reviewed! Reviews inspire me, and I'm posting this for you guys :)

* * *

Fionna wasn't crying, not anymore. She hadn't been for awhile, but the tracks of dried salt remained. She wasn't sure whether to feel happy or sad, to give in to the soft flutteries in her stomach or to the fisted disappointment around her heart.

As it always was when she felt confused like this, she went to her favorite spot. It was only a little bit off from the treehouse, at the edge of the forest, and she could slip out while Cake snored away. She usually came here to think, and that's what she was doing at that moment – or at least that's what she was doing until she heard the near-silent rustling of leaves. Her head shooting up, she stared into the trees, which went from sparse to dense very quickly. Her blue eyes narrowed, and her strong fingers closed around the hilt of the sword at her side.

"Hello?" she called softly. The rustling increased, a branch swished, and Fionna raised her blade. "Hello?" she repeated, louder this time. There was still no response, and as she prepared herself to cleave some very nasty thing in two, out came –

"Marshall?"

"Whoa, Fionna, what're you doing?" the immortal teenager asked, jerking off the headphones that had been covering his ears, his eyebrows halfway up his head as his eyes took in her brandished sword.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Fionna said, her voice tense as she lowered her blade.

"Uh, no, you couldn't. I'm a dangerous creature of the night, and you're a day-loving human. What are you doing out so late?" he wondered, tucking the headphones into his pocket and emerging completely from between the trees. She reflected that at times like this, when he was surrounded by blackness, he moved like a shadow.

"I just came out here to think," she muttered.

"At three in the morning? Come on, Fi, I'm not an idiot. What's going on?" He floated a little closer, his eyes traveling over her. "What the hell is on your arms?!" he exclaimed suddenly, reaching out. "Are those _burns_?"

Fionna shrugged him off. "They're nothing. They don't even hurt."

"Fionna, what's going on?" he demanded again. She waved a hand dismissively, and even in the near blackness his eyes caught the remains of tears on a face still pink from excessive heat. "…Did you mess with someone in the Fire Kingdom?"

"No, I just…" she sighed. "I met Flame Prince."

Marshall growled. "He did this to you?"

"No! …Well, yeah, but I'm fine."

"This–" he picked up her splotchy arm and shook it a little, "is fine? Fionna, you freak me out sometimes. Do you even listen to yourself? Have you gone completely nuts?"

She glared at him, pulling away. "I don't need to hear it from you too. Geez."

He felt the sharp pinch that was his fangs extending and piercing his lip, and rubbed at the pinprick of pain. He tried to remind himself that she was a stupid human, doing what stupid humans had always done – namely, be stupid – but he knew it wasn't the truth. Fionna was smarter than this. "Do you _like_ this jerkwad?"

She said nothing, and Marshall groaned. "Seriously? Could you _be_ any more dumb?"

And abruptly she was right there, her finger jabbing against his chest. "Shut up, Marshall Lee!" He could feel her trembling, her voice so fierce. "I've heard enough of it today! From everyone! Cake I understand, even Gumball – but _you_, Marshall. You're more dangerous than any of them! He's a prince – of what, fire? He can explode into a whole lot of flames? You're the flipping king of darkness! Why should it be okay to spend time with you and not him?!"

Marshall grabbed her finger. He thought of how easy it would be to snap it, only slightly more difficult than breaking a twig. Did she ever realize how delicate she was? "Because, Fionna," he hissed, "I can touch you without hurting you. Yes, of course I could kill you, in a second, but it would be _my choice_. People of the Fire Kingdom, the royals especially, don't have that choice – all they can do is destroy, everything they touch and everyone they get close to. Is that really what you want?"

"I want to at least _try_, Marshall." He could hear how her heart pounded wildly only inches away, her body so close to his he could feel her heat. "When have I ever given up without trying? When have I ever given up at all?"

Marshall thought. Fionna, sword raised, facing off against a beast at least twelve times her size; Fionna, in love with someone years older who could never love her back; Fionna, promising the entire world that she could and would save them. Fionna, who breathed in sunshine and exhaled justice. Fionna the Human, who never gave up. "Never," he muttered.

She let out a breath, sharp and relieved. "I told you."

"Whatever, Fionna, you still have to think about this," he got out between gritted teeth. "Like what happens when you kiss? Or hold hands? Or do things that normal couples don't have to think twice about? It isn't easy, fighting nature." He could picture the prince of the Fire Kingdom's lips against hers, devouring in the same way flames suck moisture from the air, their limbs tangled together and Fionna screaming in pain. This boy would burn her away.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"And you still _like_ him?"

"You can't _turn off_ liking someone, Marshall, it doesn't just go away!"

He glared at her, as if he was disappointed that she couldn't turn it off, and dropped her finger. She would never admit it, but his cool skin had felt soothing on her burns.

"Look, Fionna," he muttered. "I think this is the dumbest thing you've ever done."

"Well, thank you for your honesty, ya butt," she said tartly, turning away to head back to the treehouse. Annoyingly, he floated along beside her, his arms crossed.

"But," he said, "I guess, if you really like him... " he huffed out a sigh, raking fingers through his hair as if hardly believing she could. "I just thought after the ball with the Ice Queen you'd given up on dating," he grumbled.

Fionna shrugged.

"Maybe you just gave up on Gumball." He looked at the corner of the sky where the black-blue was very faintly lightening, tapping out a somewhat violent rhythm on the side of his bass and sneering the tiniest bit. "At least he was safe. He'd break your heart, maybe, but this–" he skimmed a gentle finger over a lengthy burn on her forearm, surprising her enough to jump a little "–wouldn't happen. Glob. Just do not pull me into any sort of your love life drama junk, Fi, because it was stupid enough with Gumball."

She absently brushed a hand over the cold, tingling stripe his fingers had left and sighed. "Whatevs, man, I don't want drama either. It's just nice to like someone who likes me back." Fionna held back the next part of that sentence – _even if we can't really touch_ – knowing Marshall would have some rude comment in response.

He sighed, a bit grumpily. She considered for a second asking him why the Flame Prince thing bothered him so much, then realized it probably wasn't the best idea. He got damned touchy sometimes.

"Look, dude, I'm tired," she mumbled. "I'm gonna go to bed." She opened the door and glanced at him where he levitated a few inches off the doorstep. "Goodnight, Marshall."

"Mm, goodnight," he said, as if he wasn't really thinking about it, drifting back a few feet.

She shut the door and was about to head up the ladder when she heard Marshall's soft voice from the other side. He was humming, plucking his bass in an unfamiliar mix of chords. She pressed her ear to the wood, and made out the beginnings to a song she'd never heard before.

"_Fionna_

_Who's so tough she wants to save the entire land_

_always with that sword in her hand_…"

Marshall's voice began to fade, and Fionna guessed he was moving away from the treehouse. She jumped for the ladder and bolted up it, scooting out onto one of the swinging bridges. As she leaned over the rope railing to hear, she hoped he wouldn't discern the quiet creaks of her feet on the wooden boards.

"…_You don't have to save everyone_

_you only have to save yourself_

_You're not the only hero beneath this sun_

_Fionna, for once, put the sword away on the shelf_

_Fionna, please, save yourself."_

Fionna watched as Marshall flicked his fingers against the bass strings. It made an ugly noise, and he only did it when he was dissatisfied with a song. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the sun starting to heave itself into the sky, and saw Marshall continue in the direction of his house. For a moment she wanted to call after him, though to say what, she had no idea. Her mouth was even open, and the breath was gathered there in her throat – but she turned away. She never would understand him, no matter how long they were friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Bleh, not mine.

**Notes:** Okay, this one is just ridiculously long. It was like nine pages or something. So I hope you guys like long chapters, because it goes on forever! Also, I'm not really sure when the next update will be, because the holiday season is especially hectic for me - also because I haven't gotten anyone presents yet, since I'm a bum. Anyways, happy holidays, everyone, and PLEASE review (thanks SO MUCH to everyone who already does!) Geez, to all you people reading and not reviewing, the review box is right down there feelin' all lonely! Give it a Christmas present!

* * *

"I still think you should wear a dress…"

"Aw, let it go, Cake. You know what happens when I wear dresses!"

"…You get attacked by the Ice Queen?"

"Exactly! No dress." Fionna glanced in the mirror and noticed a huge smudge of dirt across her forehead. How had she missed that? Licking her thumb, she smeared it off. "See, good as new, and perfectly fine without a dress!" she announced, turning to her adoptive sister and yanking her hat straight on top of her just-brushed hair. "How do I look?"

"The same as always?"

"Darn."

"Girl, you didn't change anything except put that nasty perfume junk in your hair! What'd you think would look different?"

Fionna shrugged, tucking a few wisps of hair back beneath the hem of her bunny-ear hat. She'd thought the hair perfume would smell nice, but the clear liquid was a little gross. It smelled a bit like rotten flowers, or maybe it was more like an unwashed pixie. However, it was a little too late now to take it out, so she just gave a grumble and glared at the mirror. "Okay, let's go."

Cake grabbed her dulcimer, which she claimed was perfect background music for star-gazing, and they headed out. Fionna would never admit it, but the soft sound actually was a nice companion to watching the pinpricks of light work their way across the sky, so she didn't complain.

Fionna heard Cake mutter something about dresses as they padded over to the Candy Kingdom in the dark, and rolled her eyes. "It isn't like a date, geez. You and Lord M will be there, and Marshall and PG too. Not a date."

"That just makes it a double date, girl!" Cake protested. "Or triple, ya know." She laughed. "Haha, PG and Marshall."

Fionna giggled a little, thinking of Marshall's black eyes, mischievous and amused, ever catching Gumball's serious purple ones. "Have you thought about PG being, well, kinda gay?"

"Liking pink isn't the same thing as liking men!"

Fionna grinned, a little apologetically. Maybe Marshall was getting to her with all his anti-pink talk. "Of course not, I'm just sayin'. Has he ever even looked at a girl like that before?" It would have bothered her before, to talk about Gumball being attracted to anyone, but not anymore. It had been forever since that glob-awful ball, since she said she gave up on dudes being more than friends, and months since she met Flame Prince. She felt something a little tickly in her ribcage at the thought of seeing him again. Maybe they were sort of dating, enough that he joined them for adventures sometimes and every so often she got out flameproof gloves and they held hands – but it still felt a little strange. She'd already saved him from Ice Queen a few times, and there was definitely something romantic about that, but otherwise not much happened. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to happen. Nothing dramatic; she just wished it wasn't so painful to kiss him. It occurred to her, the few times they'd laughed together about the impossibility of an ice queen and a prince of fire ever getting together, that perhaps he thought it was equally as impossible to be with her. He still called her a water elemental sometimes, confused by her humanity, and when she tried to explain he'd only understand less. In those situations, he'd say, "If you are a hooman –"

"Human…"

"Oh, yes, human. If you are, why are you the only one? No one can be the only one of anything."

She'd smile, just a little bit, and her eyes would look perhaps a little shinier than normal. "I'm not the only one. There are others out there, somewhere."

He'd reach forward, wanting to brush away what he recognized as the possible beginnings of a tear, and then his hand would stop between them. He would truly make her cry if his scorching fingers touched her delicate eyelids. He pulled back, always, apologizing, and she would just shake her head. "It's fine, really. I don't mind."

But she did mind. Not because it hurt, or because every kiss they shared meant she couldn't quite smile for days, or because he didn't get what it meant to conceivably be the last of a kind.

No, she minded because _she_ got what it meant. She could be the only human left in all of Aaa. She'd talked about it barely a month ago with Gumball, and he'd told her something horrifying – maybe not as much to an barely fifteen year old, but awful nonetheless. If she truly was alone, the single remaining relic of an extinct species, she would never have children. There was simply no way for her blood to combine with the sticky sugar syrup in candy people, or the viscous, chunky liquid residing in the veins of those in Lumpy Space, or even the juice from the berry people. Her blood had more in common with the blood of animals than any humanoid species in Aaa, and the genetics would just never work. If she didn't find another human, Fionna would be childless forever.

Perhaps it wasn't that bad. Fionna wasn't entirely sure she wanted to have kids anyways, though when she watched Cake and Lord M discuss the possibility, the tap of his hooves somehow hopeful and Cake's eyes the tiniest bit dreamy, she thought that maybe there was a reason it was so special.

But that brought up far too many other painful notions, of the parents who had abandoned her alone to die, how she had not been important enough to them to keep. According to Gumball, every account of human parenting, found in books scattered in libraries or in old movies, seemed to point towards one concept – human parents loved their children more than anything. Why were her parents the exception?

"–but, it really seems like he hasn't. Are you even listening?"

Fionna snapped back to reality, blinking at Cake.

"Daydreaming about a certain fiery dude?" Cake asked knowingly, purring a little in amusement.

"Uh… yeah," Fionna muttered.

Cake smirked smugly, and stretched forward a paw to knock on the rather large pink doors to the Candy Castle.

"Come in, guys, we're heading up to the observation tower," Gumball called over Peppermint Maid's head, juggling an armful of lunar maps and a telescope. Lord M and Flame Prince followed along behind, and Fionna and Cake joined them. Fionna fell into step beside her boyfriend – is that what he was? Geez, it still felt weird even to think it – and smiled at him.

"Hey, I missed you. How was your mom's?"

The blazing prince smiled back and then sighed. "Whenever I visit, she never wants me to leave."

Fionna rolled her eyes. She was mostly convinced his mom was evil. She was definitely crazy. Maybe she was both. "You'd think she take a hint."

He shook his head. "My mom does not take hints, unfortunately." Then he smiled again and asked how she was, what her and Cake had gotten up to in the past two weeks he was gone.

She told him, reaching out and placing her hand in his. For a moment he flinched, but then grinned when he saw the fireproof metal gauntlet she'd slipped on. At his bright smile and the way his flaming hair rose a little higher, something within her crackled, something sweet and warm. It hardly mattered if he didn't really even get what a human was.

"Yo, Gumball, when is this thing gonna happen?" Marshall asked, poking his head out of the door to the observation tower. "I don't have all night."

Gumball checked his watch. "Soon, soon." They all crowded into the stairwell and started winding up, until they had pushed through the trapdoor at the top and were spread out across the open crown of the tower. It was one of the highest points of the castle, only trumped by the tip of the tree that had once contained the Lich.

"Marshall, would you help me place these recording devices on a higher ledge?" the pink prince asked. "You're the only one who can get up there."

Marshall shrugged, grabbing a few of them and floating up while Gumball used a ladder along the side of the roof. After a minute neither of them were visible within the cloud always hovering over the Candy Kingdom.

"I should go help," Fionna said, dropping Flame Prince's hand and hopping on the ladder to head after them.

However, when she was halfway up, what she heard gave her pause.

"–He's truly unstable, and I know she doesn't believe me, but–"

"Hey, pass me that other one."

There were a few scraping noises, possibly those of a camera being moved into place. Then, after a moment –

"How unstable?" Marshall's voice was quiet, and Fionna stopped moving completely to be able to hear his words.

"If something happens, anything serious enough to really anger him, he could literally explode. He'd be fine afterwards, but Fionna –"

"Fionna's not fireproof," Marshall said. "She'd be dead."

"Yes," Gumball said.

"Is he still pissed about you trapping him in that lamp?"

"Well – here's the next camera – we've never talked about it. I think, if not for Fionna, he surely would have confronted me. And based on his lack of control when confronting people, he conceivably would have killed me."

"You're tougher than you look, Bubba. People don't just kill you."

"No, they certainly don't seem to, though not for lack of trying. This is the last one."

There were a few more grating squeaks of plastic on thick candy shingles. "She really likes him, though," Marshall muttered.

Gumball sighed. "Yes, well, she's has a history of making foolish choices when it comes to liking people."

Fionna felt a strange mix of rage and embarrassment well within her. She wasn't sure if she should march up the last few rungs and give them both a sound whack with something heavy and blunt, or turn around and pretend she hadn't heard anything.

After a minute, the choice was decided for her when she heard Gumball's boots begin to descend the ladder. She immediately scampered down, reaching the bottom a bit breathless.

"Ooh, it's starting!" Cake said, waving a paw at a falling speck of blue against the black sky.

"Oh goody," Marshall said sardonically, drifting down to join them. "I've only seen this happen like twenty times."

"Not everyone lives freakishly long, ya sketch vampire," Cake mumbled under her breath.

Gumball jumped from the last rung of the ladder and brushed his hands off, striding over. "It's begun! Enjoy the meteor shower, everyone." With that, he leaned down to his telescope and started making notes on the huge star charts.

Fionna wanted to lean against Flame Prince where he stood at the turret's edge, but she knew from experience her hair and hat would catch fire, which was sure to ruin everyone's evening, so instead she just took his hand again. She gripped a little tighter than normal, resentment still thick on her tongue as she thought of the Vampire King and the prince of the Candy Kingdom discussing her relationship.

It wasn't as if she didn't know how dangerous he was. The difference was that she trusted him, and they never would. Gumball tended to simply assume the worst in any situation and of any person, and Marshall – well. Sometimes it seemed that he trusted no one in the entire world. Fionna hoped he trusted her, because she knew she was one of the few to do so for him, to really believe he was good.

"Yeah, I've never seen the moon that bright either, baby," Cake murmured in response to the click of Lord Monochromicorn's hooves.

"We landed on it, a long time ago," Marshall said absently, staring up, as all of them, at the shining moon.

"Landed on what?" Fionna asked, glancing at him.

"The moon," Marshall murmured, his eyes meeting hers for a second before rising back to the sky.

"Really?" Cake asked. "When?"

"Oh, at least a thousand years ago," he replied. "I saw it on television."

Everyone seemed to have stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Marshall Lee. None of them had ever heard him volunteer facts about himself before, and judging by Gumball's expression, not even he had known people had landed on the moon.

"Who's we?" Fionna wondered, fingering her backpack strap.

Marshall paused, and his eyes dropped from the moon to settle on Fionna's face. "Humans," he said.

"We? But… you are not a human," Flame Prince said, his voice confused.

Marshall's eyes, if possible, seemed to darken at the statement, and everyone could see the glint of his fangs in the moonlight.

"If you're a vampire, you can't be human," the prince continued, still sounding a little perplexed, not at all paying attention to Marshall's expression. "Besides, my Fionna is the only one left."

"I am not!" Fionna said, giving him a hurt look and pulling away a little.

Marshall glared at Flame Prince, the whites of his eyes absorbing into his black irises. For a moment it seemed he was going to move forward, and Fionna could see how even the shape of his mouth seemed more animal, how perhaps his nails were quite a bit longer than they had been a moment ago – but then he simply floated up.

"Marshall, wait!" Fionna called, stepping forward even though he had already disappeared into the cloud.

Gumball sighed. "Fionna, just let him go–"

But she was already off, taking the ladder two rungs at a time.

…

He could hear her hard breathing, how her tiny feet smacked each pretzel stick rung hard enough to chip the salt off.

For a second, just a second, he considered simply continuing up. Letting the hero reach the end of her ladder and search for him on the roof when he couldn't be found.

But for all his talk, Marshall Lee was not cruel, at least not to her. So instead he sprawled onto the ledge he had placed the movie cameras on, settling his bass in his lap and strumming. It occurred to him that Gumball's videos of the falling stars would have his music in the background, and he smirked at the thought, playing a little louder.

"Marshall," she said again, and her bunny-eared hat emerged at the base of the ledge.

"S'up," he said.

For a moment she was silent, and he had the thought that she had simply chased him without really knowing what she meant to say.

"He didn't really mean it," was what she finally got out, her head tilted up to see him.

"Oh, he definitely did. Why shouldn't he? I'm not human, Fionna."

She shook her head. "No, I just – I mean, he doesn't always get other people, and, you know…."

Marshall laughed, but the sound was not particularly happy. "What you're trying to say is that he always says the wrong thing."

Fionna immediately protested, but he merely went back to playing his bass. Finally she sighed. "He's been trapped in that lamp for years, he doesn't really know how to talk to people. He didn't mean anything, you know, jerky, by it."

Marshall raised his eyebrows. "I'm fine, Fionna. Are you sure you are?"

"But you came up here –"

"Mm, it was getting lame. You know Gumball would have just started asking me about the moon, and honestly your little fire prince really irritates me. Time to head out."

Fionna blew out a breath, frowning down. For a while she said nothing, and then she looked back at him. "Can I come up?"

He nodded, leaning over to swing her onto the ledge. Her hand was so warm in his, like the sunshine he could no longer feel. She pulled her knees up and sat next to him, brushing her hair back and leaning on her elbows.

"Do you really think I'm the last one?" she whispered after a good long while.

He considered for a moment, his fingers plunking on the strings and her heat right beside him, lying. He could say he'd seen a few many years back in some impossible-to-find location, or smelled the scent of human blood on the wind. He could even say he'd heard someone else had seen a sign of them, and that would be enough.

He looked at her. Her eyes caught the gleam of meteors, and her cheeks were a bit too pink even in the cool night air. She was like if hope married innocence and had a baby.

"You might be," he said softly. "I haven't seen another human for at least a century."

She bit her lip. Fionna wasn't prone to crying, but this was the one subject that consistently pulled at least a few tears out, so with a sigh he scooted closer to her.

"No, I'm fine," she said, letting out a petite little sniffle and stopping there. She leaned against him anyways though, staring off at the rain of falling stars.

"Make a wish," he said, his voice gently teasing.

"PG says they probably won't come true," she muttered.

"Aw, don't listen to him, he's dumb."

They looked up together, the sky smattered with stars and every little while the luminous flash of one streaking by. Fionna squinted at a particularly bright one, then closed her eyes. Her chin rose slightly, her mouth moved silently, and then slowly her eyes opened.

After a moment, Marshall took his guitar off his lap and leaned back against the side of the castle's roof. Fionna seemed to take this as an invitation to nestle closer; he would have complained, but she was so gloriously warm. However –"Your hair reeks," he coughed.

"Oh geez," Fionna grumbled, pulling off her hat. "I put this awful perfume stuff on and it's the junkiest stuff you've ever smelled."

He choked a little on the scent, leaning away. "Glob yeah it is. Why'd you use it?"

Her pale eyebrows pulled together. "FP gave it to me."

"That doesn't mean you have to wear it!"

"I guess not." She threw the hat a few feet away and the strength of the smell lifted a little. "It was nice of him, though." Her frown deepened as she leaned back against his shoulder, folds of her hair resting against his neck. He considered moving away, but perhaps the smell wasn't actually that bad. Besides, he was pretty comfortable. "Why do you think FP doesn't really mind that I might be the last human?" she wondered.

"He's never been the last of anything," Marshall said, a bit indifferently. "It doesn't mean much to him."

"You have, though," she murmured. He glanced down and she was gazing at a far off star, her focus intense but absentminded.

"I have what?"

"Been the last of something." She sat up a little more. "After the war. I remember, inside your memories. You were alone."

He winced, thinking of her encounter with Ashlynn and how she had waltzed through centuries of his memories.

"Sorry, man, I don't wanna bring up anything you don't wanna talk about," she said, her words soft and genuine.

"It's fine," he said. "Yeah, I was alone."

"How old were you?" she asked.

"Well." He didn't have to tell her anything. He could cut her off now, float off this ledge where she couldn't possible follow. But he wouldn't, because he was a better friend than that. Or maybe because she was looking at him with those eyes. "Demons age really slowly," he said casually. "And I was half demon. So, in human years, I had been alive for at least two or three decades, but it was equivalent to me being about four or five."

"So little," she said, and for the first time he contemplated what a five-year-old Fionna must have been like. A hero even then, surely, going around and having adventures with Cake. "So what happened to your dad? I know your mom got trapped in the Nightosphere."

"He died. In the war."

"I'm really sorry, man," Fionna said, and the emotion in her words was intensified instead of subdued by her lack of ever knowing her own father. She had Cake's dad, of course, and he was all she could have ever wished for plus some extra. She couldn't possibly have loved her human parents more than her adoptive ones, no matter if she was raised by them instead – but she still wondered, in some aching part of her heart, what they had been like.

"It was a long time ago," Marshall said. He sounded vague and toneless, but through his head ran scenes of aged memories, of a little boy with blood all over him, trying to wake up a lifeless body as bombs screamed down. "You asked me once," he started quietly, a few minutes later, "what the worst part of the war was. And I said I would tell you."

Fionna glanced up at him, and he could see his entire self reflected in her eyes. He noticed the black of his irises had gone back to where it should have been, and the red point at the center had disappeared. This was the effect she had on him, he realized – the anger simply trickled away.

"Yeah?" she murmured.

"It wasn't the bombs," he said. "Or the guns."

Fionna nodded. He had explained what a gun was to her a year or so ago, and when she had stated that they actually sounded rather useful, picturing how easy it would be to defeat the Lich with one, he had punched her in the stomach and not talked to her for a week. She grasped pretty quickly after that the huge differences between the fighting styles of her world and of the one that came before, what it meant to be a defender of justice and what it meant to be an invading army. "Then what was it?"

"The people." His gaze focused on the flash of a falling star. "Humans claimed for centuries before the war that vampires were monsters, but what we have done is nothing in comparison. I mean, even after the bomb was dropped–"

"Which bomb?"

He looked at her a little blankly. "_The_ bomb. The one that ended the world." It occurred to him that no one knew any longer where the "mushroom" part of the Great Mushroom War came from. "It destroyed an entire piece of the planet and killed at least two or three billion people."

Fionna had no concept of a billion, but she knew based on his expression that it was a lot. "Oh."

"Yeah. But, like that wasn't freaking terrible enough, the radiation killed almost everyone else. And anyone who was alive still – Glob, they all just started killing each other. They said the war was over, but it wasn't at all. Or if it was, then a new one had already started. Humanity turned on itself."

Some cold ball of horror solidified in the pit of Fionna's stomach at his words. "Why?"

"For food, or shelter – for anything. They created reasons to kill each other. You wouldn't be able to really understand what it was like, because violence isn't the same anymore. Look, I don't want to ruin whatever ideas you have about your human ancestors–"

"Dude, tell me," Fionna said, and her hand was wrapped around his wrist, her face turned up to look at him. His eyes were dark, and his fanged mouth was rather close to hers in their current position.

Marshall dragged his fingers through his hair and scowled a tiny bit. She could tell he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Finally he sighed. "Most humans are monsters," he said flatly.

Fionna didn't gasp, but her inhale was a bit sharp, and her fingers tightened on his cold skin.

"And you, Fionna," he continued, "are one of the only truly good ones I have ever met."

Fionna wanted to say that he was lying, wanted to pull away. But when she looked at him, she knew that that was what he expected her to do, and so she didn't. She couldn't help but shake her head of blonde waves, though.

"I wish I was lying," he said, as if he could see inside her head and knew what she was thinking. "Because, you know–" he laughed a little, a dark, frightening sound, "for all that, I still kinda wish I was one." He glanced at her. "Not that I ever was all the way, but demons are closer to humans than you'd think. I may as well have been."

Fionna was still shaking her head, but as he persisted in watching her, she finally stopped and let out an unsteady breath. "Did it just completely suck?" she asked, nearly in a whisper. "The age of humans?"

He shook his head. "Not all of it, not even close. There was the art, and the music – the music, Fionna, you've never heard anything like it. Human lifetimes are pretty short, so they had to get the most out of it that they could. They had to really live."

She looked away. For a moment she had the strange thought that he could probably hear her heartbeat, and that he hadn't heard one like it for over a century. But then she turned back to him, and tugged on a lock of his shiny black hair with a determined, if slightly grim, smile. "I'm going to find them, Marshall," she murmured.

"I know you will," he said seriously, reaching for her hat and slipping it on over her soft hair.

She thought he would stand up, or make some sort of move to leave, but he didn't. Instead, he simply settled a little closer to the roof. So she settled a little closer to him, and they sat together like that in silence until Cake called for her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Mmph. Not mine. Believe you me (shout out for one of the most confusing sayings ever... almost as bad as 'I could care less'. Isn't the whole point that you _couldn't_ care less?), anyways, if I owned Adventure Time, I'd come out with that flipping Marshall Lee episode already!

**Notes:** Guys, I'm so sorry this one took forever! Part of the reason is that I really dislike this chapter... I dunno. I got tired of picking at it, so here it is. I hope you like it and that it turned out okay anyways!

Also, thank you guys SO MUCH for the reviews! Wow, in the middle of school and junk and feeling like most of it is pretty sucky (I'M LOOKING AT YOU STATISTICS) reviews are the absolute best! To everyone who took the time to write something, even if it was only a word or two, you are just the coolest in the whole world and so appreciated. (Okay, and to people who have favorited but not reviewed - thank you, but if you like it enough to favorite, why not review?) If you have any advice, or complaints, or any random thing to say, please do! The box is right down there. All lonely. And empty...

Anyways, here it is!

* * *

"Marshall Lee, I swear I'll kick your dumb-butt face in!"

"Aw, Fionna, is that any way to get this back?"

Fionna was so irritated she could have screamed. But she didn't, because Marshall would have thought it was hilarious, and she hated when those smirking chuckles were directed at her. Instead she ducked low to the ground to grab a handful of stones and straightened with the worst glare she could muster. "If you don't give it back, I'll throw rocks at you!" she shouted.

He laughed. "Ooh, threats. Now I'm really not giving it back."

Fionna tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed, and let loose the biggest stone. It smacked against his ankle, making a slightly disturbing noise as it hit.

Marshall flinched, but his pointy-toothed grin didn't get even the tiniest bit smaller. "If you want it, Fi, you'll have to pry it from my cold, undead fingers." He waved the bunny-ear hat a little, and then floated far beyond the reach of even her skilled throwing arm with a laugh.

"Shoot." Fionna shoved her remaining rocks into her backpack and ran after him, her feet pounding across the fresh grass. "I'll get you, bloodsucking fiend!"

"Insults? I'm hurt," Marshall teased from far above, dangling the hat off his shoe. He was entirely too awake, as it was early evening, and he had gotten up less than an hour or so ago when the sun set. "Why don't you just get your flaming boyfriend to shoot me down?"

"We broke up months ago!" Fionna yelled.

Marshall paused, and in his surprise the hat slipped from his booted toe. He flew down distractedly to grab it before it hit the ground. "Really?" he asked. He'd been starting to think, a bit resignedly, that it would never happen; maybe Fionna was stubborn enough even to spend a life with someone who could only bring her pain. He was strangely relieved she wasn't, but didn't feel inclined to analyze the feeling. "Why?"

She continued running, as if she hadn't dropped a drama bomb. "He admitted he hated you and PG," she said, bare soles flying over the wet ground. "The burns weren't that bad, but I don't wanna be with a dude who hates my guy friends."

"But you really liked him," Marshall said. He tried to think of the way she'd looked at the prince, to remember if it seemed smitten, but his mind somehow rebelled at the thought and refused to spit out an image of the two of them together.

She came to a stop, as he was no longer floating away, only gently descending in slow circles. When she tilted her head to look up at him, her hair ran down her back nearly to her hips, bright even in the dusky evening. Absently he wondered why she always wore such a silly hat when she had hair like that.

"But I've known you guys forever," she said, confused. "You're my friends. I'm not going to give that up for someone who I haven't even known for a year." She frowned up at him. "Did you really think I'd be that lame?"

He shrugged. "So he was the jealous type, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It was pretty junky, actually, he kinda got really mad when I told him. All fiery and stuff. I mean, he was sad too, but he was more mad."

Marshall glanced at her, examining her face for any trace of sadness. Yeah, she looked a little disappointed, but not heartbroken by any means. "You shoulda chucked water on him," he muttered finally. "Would've cooled him down."

Fionna rolled her eyes. She knew Marshall had never liked Flame Prince, though she'd never figured out why he felt so strongly about it. Sometimes she wondered if even he knew why. "I didn't want to hurt him, I just said it'd be better if we were only friends. The dude didn't take it well, though."

"You hurt his feelings," Marshall said, drifting farther down. "Guys have delicate feelings. He was probs just jealous you have so many guy friends."

She frowned. "Why the flip should it matter?"

"He probably thinks every guy in Aaa is in love with you."

Her frown lightened a little, and she flashed him a sly look. "You're teasing me."

"No, really." He folded his long fingers behind his head and floated in front of her, the picture of negligence. Seeing an opening, she reached silently for the hat hooked on his foot.

But it was not so easy to do things around Marshall without him noticing, and he grabbed her arm and tugged her forward with a fangy smirk. She tripped, and for a second her warm body was pressed against his cold one, and her eyes flew to his. Though hers were surprised, his were inky and still rather smug looking. It felt to her as if her lips were only inches from his. But then he shot up into the air, and she squeaked, arms folding around his neck so as not to fall.

"What the stuff are you doing?!" she demanded, eyes wide as she stared at the ground rapidly spiraling away from her.

"You want the hat?" he asked, a little complacently. "Then get it."

She stretched a hand down towards his boot, and he kicked the hat from his foot. It twirled down to the grass hundreds of feet below, a tiny patch of white on the green.

"I hate you," she grumbled, glaring down at it.

He grinned. "Don't be mean. It's not my fault you can't fly."

At that, she let out a growl of frustration and punched his shoulder as hard as she could. Immediately his grip loosened, and her breath caught as she slid down a few inches. "Don't go hitting the only thing stopping you from falling," he whispered in her ear, his cool exhales sending the whisper of a shiver down her spine.

"Bring it on, man," she said challengingly. "Let me fall."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Toodles." He let go, and only her forearms tight around his neck kept her from freefalling. But then he tickled the inside of her elbow, her arms involuntarily pulled away, and she was tumbling towards the sickening green of the ground.

"Marshallllllll," she shouted, desperately trying to find something in the rushing air to hold onto.

He laughed, right there again, his hands wrapping around her waist. The temperature of his fingers felt reassuring instead of chilly. "Don't flip out, Fionna," he murmured impishly. "I'll always catch you."

She buried her head against his shoulder, her hands tangled around his neck and in his hair. "It wasn't that scary," she mumbled testily. Somewhere at the back of her head, she marveled that his hair was so soft.

He smirked. "Of course not. Not like you would have died, or anything."

She looked up, and her nose bumped his chin. "Ow," he muttered, one hand slipping from her waist to rub the sore spot. The other hand compensated by curling tighter around her, pulling them closer.

"Marshall," she said, inanely thinking that she could feel his breath upon her mouth. Tilting her face up at him, she noticed, with a sudden pinch of surprise, that Marshall Lee was actually rather attractive. They were soaring far above the treetops, his hair blowing gently in the evening breeze. Had he always looked like that in the moonlight, his eyes catching the shine of stars? She could see the tips of his fangs, such a harsh white on his pale gray mouth, and her cheeks pinkened lightly.

He licked a fang absently, glancing down at her with a look she wasn't entirely sure she could identify. "Yeah?"

"You suck."

"I can't help it. It's the only way I can eat," he said, grinning a little.

She shoved him, but he only snickered and held her more securely. She hoped she wasn't blushing noticeably.

"So," he commented flippantly, "which prince have you moved onto now?"

"It's not like I like any guy who comes along," Fionna said, a bit offended, which distracted her from her vaguely disturbing realization about Marshall's appearance. "I don't have to always like someone."

He gave her a somewhat knowing smile.

"Aw, you tool," she complained. "I'm serious. Totally done with princes. That junk always turns out bad."

"Done with princes? Hmm, maybe you should move onto kings." He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated teasing manner. Fionna could tell by his grin he thought he was being hilarious.

"Haha, Marshall." She could feel the rush of pink return to smudge its way over her cheeks and nose, and managed to roll her eyes.

"Oh, you know you like me," he said conceitedly, flipping his hair out of his face.

"As a friend!" Realizing all of a sudden he was good-looking was hardly the same thing as liking him like _that_.

He flashed his fangs at her in an abrupt smile. "Then why are you holding on to me like a damsel in distress?" he asked mischievously.

Fionna glowered like a thundercloud and let go. She instantly began to slip through his grasp, wriggling through his arms, and when he tried to press her closer she only fell. She was plummeting again, the bottom of her stomach dropping in a nauseating manner, but she smiled triumphantly anyways.

And then Marshall swept in, catching her and pulling her tight against his chest. "What if I didn't catch you?" he hissed into her tangled mess of hair, sounding irritated.

"Cake would've." She gestured at the cat, many feet below, who was playing BMO on the roof of the treehouse.

"What if she didn't?"

"Of course she would," Fionna said, giving him a look. Her and Cake always watched out for each other, and he knew it. "She wouldn't just let me fall."

Marshall deliberated on that one for a second, still holding her as if she were some sort of bride. "What if I just drop you into the ocean?" he suggested after a moment with a wicked grin, losing all traces of seriousness. "And we'll see who saves you. Maybe some handsome prince guy."

She narrowed her eyes at him, pretty sure he wouldn't dare. But then again, it was hard to tell what the Vampire King would find amusing enough to do sometimes. "Don't even try it, dude. Besides, I'm the one who saves them, I don't need one to save me. I am not a damsel!"

"You need me to catch you, though." His voice was mildly smug, but his arms were steady where they looped under her knees and behind her back. It occurred to her that very few princes in Aaa were capable of carrying her. Muscle Prince, of course, but she couldn't think who else. She knew Gumball certainly couldn't.

"But only 'cause you took me up here in the first place!" Fionna huffed in mock seriousness, relaxed again. So what if he was kind of handsome? It wasn't as if that was going to change anything. Besides, over the years she'd heard a few of the more daring females of Aaa sigh or giggle suggestively when his name was mentioned. Everyone else seemed to know he was attractive, she was just realizing it. No big deal.

She gripped a little tighter as he began to head back to the ground, her fingers curling into his collared shirt. Her thumb brushed the edge of the bite marks on his neck, and she leaned a little closer to examine them.

"Quit wiggling," he said, rearranging his arms. "It's annoying."

"Sorry," she muttered. "These mark thingies–" she gently rested the tip of a finger on one, and Marshall winced, "do they hurt?" she wondered softly, apologetically, moving her hand away.

"No. They're just a little sensitive."

She tentatively skimmed a finger over the small red dots, then placed her index and middle finger over them as if plugging up two holes. Marshall let out a tiny noise that may have been a gasp, but when she darted a surprised glance at his face, his brow had creased into a frown.

"Where did they come from?" she questioned, after letting a long second pass and managing to convince herself she had imagined the sound.

"From when I was turned."

"Oh."

Fionna continued to brush her fingers over the marks absently, noticing his skin was the same temperature as the night air.

After a moment Marshall spoke, his voice huskier than normal and slightly strangled. "Would you stop that? It's super distracting."

"Whoops, yeah. Sorry." She removed her hand and tucked it against his collarbone, right above where his heart should have beat, and he drifted gently to the ground.

"Want your hat?" he asked as he set her on the cool grass, gesturing at the crumpled garment.

She gave him a suspicious look, and then reached for it. But abruptly it wasn't there anymore, and when she turned Marshall was swinging it from an outstretched finger. Her hand dipped into her backpack, coming out with a particularly pointy rock.

"Your choice, Marshall," she said cheerfully, tossing the stone and catching it in her fist. "Rock or hat."

He glanced at the stone, then at the hat, and smirked. Sometimes it seemed it was the only facial expression he had. "Rock, of course."

She threw, but her target had simply disappeared. The dull gray stone hit the grass several feet away with a sad-sounding thud, and Fionna scowled. "You're a cheater, Marshall Lee," she hollered.

"Am I really?"

Fionna jumped at the voice right behind her, and spun around to see a floating, very self-satisfied looking vampire. He held out the hat, and she snatched it grumpily.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Anytime," he said, as if he hadn't been the one to take it in the first place. He glided a little closer to her, and then laughed as he poked at her mussed tresses. "Your hair looks crazy," he added.

Fionna tried to smooth down the near-matted locks, knotted from her hatless flight, and Marshall snickered. She gave him a playful punch, and then combed her fingers through a wave of blonde that was uncomfortably similar in texture to tumbleweed. "I guess I can see why you always want to fly," she said reflectively. Her mind was lingering on the way the air seemed to pour over them, how soaring for Marshall appeared to be as effortless as walking.

"The ground is meant for mortals," he murmured absently, his gaze catching the moon.

Fionna's eyes settled on him. She thought that this was his equivalent of checking a watch; he always pushed his hair out of his face, narrowed his eyes at the sky, and then somehow determined the exact time from that.

"I've gotta go," he said, ruffling her hair with a grin and messing it up beyond the point of no return. "See ya later, hero girl."

At that, she completely gave up on untangling her hair and good-naturedly plopped the hat on as a sign of her defeat. "'Kay, dude. Have fun at whatever undead junk you're up to."

"Of course," he smirked. He floated a few feet higher, and she turned to head back to the treehouse.

"Fionna?" he called after her, suddenly, like an afterthought.

"Yeah?"

He was quiet for a second, and in the silence of the night she could hear Cake snoring, fallen asleep where she had been playing BMO.

"Maybe choose a less dangerous guy next time?" he finally said, and it sounded joking, but his eyes were serious.

For some reason, this moment felt vaguely important, but Fionna had no idea why. So she just shrugged noncommittally and smiled.

He sighed, a tiny little thing, though it sounded rather resigned. Then he took off, and she called out a farewell, her mortal feet wet with dew and mud.


End file.
